A Touching Affair
by YYG
Summary: Roronoa Zoro had always greatly appreciated the art of Kendo, and mostly anything involving swordplay. He longed to fight in touneraments, to actually wield the very katana his sister gave him before she passed. Unfortunately, Koshiro forbid him from ever handling sharp or dangerous things, even when he moved out of the dojo, and he had no choice but to agree. AU SanZo
1. Chapter 1

Me: For the record...*I own nothing, but I feel like the title could be offense to some people. Guys you know I mean no harm and I know this is not a joke, so please don't let yourself feel bad. As far as titles go, I couldn't think of anything. I've never known anyone with hemophilia (a rare blood clot disorder).* Please enjoy and review to tell me if you want more!

"Please make sure your shoes are off before going to your assigned area," Koshiro reminded, quieting the atmosphere. Zoro begrudgingly watched from the corner as several children clouded the dojo's training room, most of them no older than nine years old. Koshiro, although almost sixty, still chose to teach the local kids in the neighborhood himself instead of passing it down to his much younger, and equally skilled, adoptive son. Wadou Dojo had to be the most active place in New York City, besides cafes and arcades. It seemed as if the history of martial arts would live on forever. Zoro folded his arms lightly. He's made it perfectly clear over the years that the longer Koshiro taught, the greater risk of possibly ending up with a broken hip one day (what with how abnormally strong kids were getting lately) grew, but his failed attempts at succeeding the building and occupation only accomplished getting Saga, his brother, hired in his place not even a week later. Said person was teaching teenagers in the next room at this very moment, though that class ended fifteen minutes earlier. The older man would continuously brag and boast, but Zoro didn't let it get to him. After all, Zoro wasn't the one still living with their father at the age of twenty-four.

Yes, it was obvious that Koshiro never would give him a job there, no matter how much he pleaded. Sensei realized just how fragile Zoro was at an early age; when Saga purposely pinched him to keep him from stealing one of his rice balls. The moment an overly large purple bruise began to form on his small forearm, Koshiro rushed him to the hospital. The question remains of why his birth parents hadn't said anything when he was handed over.

The adoption center claimed Zoro was abandoned by the curb with a note attached to his small, thin blue blanket, listing his name, birthday, weight, etc. Could they just not have known, or did they think it wasn't something worth mentioning? Zoro didn't conversate about them at all, though therapists claim any young child should have questioned the location of their parents at least once in life. The old man never pressed about the matter; Zoro would speak whenever he was ready, if he ever was, which was unlikely at this point in time.

Once the "Grasshopper" class ended, one of the smallest students ambushed the green haired boy's leg, almost knocking him off balance. Big brown doe eyes beamed up at him, accompanied by an adorable grin. Zoro smiled warmly as he patted Chopper's head. He knew how hard the kid wanted to embrace him, but he had to hold back for Zoro's sake.

"Did you see my stances? Did you? I'm getting better!" the boy practically shouted.

"Yeah, you are. Maybe you'll take me on someday, eh?"

Chopper gave a horrified gasp, "You know full well I can't. I-I don't wanna hurt you!"

"Trust me, you won't, buddy. Not with your expertise."

The boy giggled, obviously blushing in pure happiness, "Your training put me over the top for sure."

"Excuse me?"

Zoro cringed at the voice behind him. Damn, Saga couldn't have had more impeccable timing. He was such an ass sometimes, and judging from his cocky tone, this was going to be one of those times.

Chopper noticed the distraught look on his friend's features, and pieced together the situation. He panicked, on the verge of tears, "Oops, I'm sorry! I didn't-"

"It's not your fault, buddy. You did nothing wrong," Zoro ruffled his shaggy hair lovingly, ignoring the man giving them both a vicious cold stare. No wonder the children followed instructions so perfectly. Zoro sure as hell wouldn't want to face the consequences.

The smile adorned on Zoro's lips stayed bright, assuring Chopper that everything was fine. Saga watched with a scowl, shaking his head in disapproval, "Just wait til Dad finds out."

"He's not going to find out," Zoro clarified, "Not unless you've got a sudden death wish."

"Ha! That's so cute! You think you could take me and win!"

"There's nothing cute about a man that could send you to your grave, dumbass!"

Chopper had stealthily sulked away from the two as his aunt called, quietly bidding Zoro a goodbye. However, the siblings were too preoccupied shouting threats at one another to notice. Everyone soon scurried out the door, mostly for the fear of getting caught in the brewing whirlwind. Those two could clear an entire building with just an intimidating sneeze. It was no surprise they had such a violent reputation.

"Why do you always have to be a damn squealer?! I'm not doing anything that even concerns you!" Zoro growled lowly; he heard shuffling in the next room. Koshiro was coming back and he'd rather keep his voice at a minimum.

"It does. You'd end up ass backwards in anything you do without me. God knows what you've taught that kid."

Zoro felt sick to his stomach. It annoyed him to no extent how his brother never tried to connect with the children. He didn't even bother to learn their names. How could he brand himself an excellent educator when none of the kids had the courage to request extra help from him? Zoro roughly prodded Saga's chest through the white kimono, a fit of rage slowly seeping in. "That kid has a name, and I bet I've helped him understand the basics more that you have!"

A firm hand clasped around his shoulder, still and waiting. Zoro automatically knew it was an order to turn around, but anxiety wouldn't allow him. Saga's rage-filled expression grew smug and expectant before he exited the room, chuckling. Zoro mentally slapped himself for not being more aware of his surroundings as Koshiro deeply cleared his throat.

"Hey...Sensei. En-Enjoying your tea?"

"Yes. In fact, I'm enjoying it so much that I'm going to fix up a cup for you in the kitchen," Koshiro gave a chilling smile, "Care to join?"

"I-I actually need to head over to Luffy's..."

"I gave you a chance, Zoro. Now I insist you join."

The boy sighed inwardly as Koshiro led the way. Tea isn't really his favourite beverage either, to make matters worse.

The kitchen was about the size of the guest room with a jade interior design. Blue banana tree leaves stretched across the walls vertically, along with a few splashes black kanji. This room held nothing but memories, both good and terrible. Koshiro never touched the tea bags, Zoro noticed, he went straight for the refrigerator. As he hoisted himself on the bar stool, a can of cherry soda slid toward him across the counter. The silence between them was imminent. Zoro waited patiently, tapping fingernails on the marble countertop. Koshiro figured he would be the one to speak first.

"I heard everything," he claimed, "I already know."

"Chopper needed help and there's nothing dangerous about that!"

"He was wielding a sword!"

Zoro scoffed, "Made of wood."

"Look, I only ask that you take care of yourself and be cautious. I worry about you the most. Saga can handle his own."

"I can handle my own as well, Sensei," Zoro abruptly stood, causing the stool to wobble. "I'm not a kid anymore. I rent an apartment-"

"That I pay half of."

"-I have two jobs-"

"You're a litter picker and you work at McDonald's."

"-and I'm a responsible pet owner."

Koshiro placed his hands in the sleeves of his evening robe, "Responsible? Bon lives with Ace, and when was the last time you went to see that so-called cat of yours?"

Zoro avoided direct eye contact. It has been a couple of weeks since his last visit. The poor feline must miss him terribly. Koshiro pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, a familiar gesture Zoro had gotten used to over the years. It indicated that he was reaching his limit. Zoro knew how much stress the other could hold from previous observations, and he'd rather not get burned by the fire this time.

"I'm sorry for making you worry, Sensei. I suppose I should...tone down my more risky actions," the green haired teen rested his chin in his palm lightly, still choosing to stare blankly at the sloppily stacked mug coasters in front of him.

A small humorless laugh shook Koshiro's shrunken frame, effectively confusing his son. Was it something he said that caused such a painful sound? "Why do you call me that? You're my son, not one of my pupils. You've never once called me something as simple as 'dad,' you know."

"That's...that's because, um," Zoro felt his face flush with embarrassment, "You're my teacher. You taught me everything; how to talk, walk, write. I feel as if I'm bound, as if addressing you as anything else wouldn't add up to how much I respect you."

Surprisingly, he was brought into a gentle embrace with the other cradling the back of his head tenderly. Koshiro's laugh was less sadden and more genuine as it vibrated his shoulder. "Oh, my son. Who knew the violent, competitive toddler I've come to love would grow into such a fine, slightly often challenged, gentleman?"

"Oi!"

"What? Can't I make a few funnies?"

Zoro laughed as he grabbed his soda and waved his father farewell for the day. He needed to give Ace his sword books back before the older flew to Santa Bay this weekend. Hopefully Luffy was there to answer the door, even if it meant his very presence endlessly pestered the cat.

~T~

The work day seemed incredibly quiet today, although Zoro partly blamed it on it being eight in the morning. Most people were at gyms or actual coffee shops. No one wanted their off-brand brews or greasy burgers after waking up. Hell, just smelling the grills and fryers made him sick. Not every McDonald's was the same, of course, and Zoro was positive this one had to be at the bottom of the barrel. Faded brick walls inside and out, chipping wooden tables, broken sinks, and the uniform; oh, how he wished he could tear off the orange visor that clashed with his hair.

He arrived earlier than ususal, thus finding Mr. Morgan in the break room. His handless wrist completely fascinated Zoro, but asking about it was out of the question. Poor Helmeppo; the damned fool only survived a day here.

Mr. Morgan grimaced once Zoro entered, his entire demeanor taking a sharp turn downhill. Did anyone on earth brighten this guy's mood?

"What are you doing here...Sir?" Zoro harshly bit out the formality.

"It's my damn restaurant. I'll drop in whenever I feel like it!" Mr. Morgan sighed, scratching his chin, "And also because we might be shutting down in a couple of days."

"What?"

"I was gonna wait until everyone showed up, but you'd give me that dopey look until I explained, right?"

Zoro felt a vein twitch. No need to pretend with this jerk anymore; it was useless to keep kissing ass. If he was fired, so be it. "Fuck you, boss," he sneered.

Who'd have thought that would cause a laugh?

Zoro continued to stare as the cackling man gave him a rough pat on the arm. He had no idea what was happening. Normally his smart mouth got him into severe trouble with snide remarks, it certainly never entertained people.

"Well, look who finally grew some balls in this place! You're the first one to stand up to me. Feel strong, maggot?"

"Uhh...I'm not fired?"

"You're on janitor duty until we close, so no."

The nerves in Zoro's hand spasmed, itching to punch a wall. On the bright side, he wouldn't need to stand at the register, dealing with moody, inconsiderate customers all day long.

Speaking of inconsiderate, a tall, slim blonde burned a hole through the murky glass window with his gaze alone, staring daggers at Zoro as he walked towards the dining area. He appeared to be disgusted by one thing or another; his three piece, wrinkle-free suit he wore made Zoro automatically assume he was some kind of high critic. Though, critic or not, the guy needed to learn at least an ounce of manners.

So, bordering on polite, the green haired boy scowled, flipped him off proudly, and stalked behind the counter. The shocked, disrespected look on the other's face was enough to make Zoro almost bust a gut. His features twisted up into a bitter grimace; his nose wrinkled as if the expression was made ob a daily basis. He dared him to come inside and start something; Mr. Morgan would tossed him unabashedly into next week. But that's not necessarily something Zoro wouldn't mind watching on his lunch break. In fact, the teen urged the stranger on, mockingly making a "come hither" gesture with his index finger. The blonde man mouthed a string of (assumed) curse words before stomping off towards a blue car across the street. Needless to say, Zoro was proud of his pointless accomplishment.

"Why don't I see a mop handle MOVING out there, maggot?!"

It was then that he realized no one else came into work yet, meaning he was stuck with Mr. High & Mighty for God knows how long. Where the hell were the so-called employees of this shitty establishment?

~T~

A long, vengeful week passed since Zoro was technically laid off, and he noticed a dramatic decrease in his savings. Even now as he brutally stabbed a torn plastic cup with his poker and stuffed it in his burlap satchel, Zoro tried to think of local places that were hiring. Besides, he wasn't sure how long he could keep this late-night-cleaning bit up. He was loosing a lot of time he could've spent napping, or finishing schoolwork. Nevertheless, he had to make some type of income. Koshiro shouldn't have to pay rent entirely.

He sighed and softly pulled on his light purple jacket's hood. Enies Park, possibly the largest park in the city, was littered with several kinds of trash. Bottles, wrappers, clothes, bags; the formerly green grass had died ages ago from the constant neglect. Benches were raggedy, trees whitened and hollowed out, and Zoro was almost positive the playground's sandbox sucked in a few kids before. Did people have no respect for the city, or did they purposely attempt to waste Zoro's time?

Although the only purpose of this job was to clean, it was extremely harder than it turned out to be, especially if the wind currents were strong. Like today, for instance. Zoro groaned loudly as laziness wanted to overtake him. He didn't feel like chasing after grocery bags, or tackling loose juice boxes.

Spotting a runaway piece of newspaper, Zoro lunged for it, but a black dress shoe appeared in between the attack at the last moment. It was so unexpected; the conflicted teen didn't really have the chance to control or stop his arm.

A low scream sounded above him, forcing his gaze upwards. "Ouch! What the fuck is your problem, shithea-" the tall man blinked, struck speechless for a second, "YOU!"

"Me?" Zoro questioned with a couple mindless blinks of his own. Did this guy know him?

"Yes, you! You're that rude fucker from that sleazy grease trap," the stranger claimed angrily, crossing his lean arms over his slightly broad chest. It amazed Zoro how little detail the suit showed, but he could still define a great mass of muscles underneath the layers. He was too busy studying the other to even drag out a sensible reply.

"Oi, I demand an apology," the blonde shouted once he hadn't been answered. Zoro shook his head quickly, his cheeks heating up slightly.

"Oh," he shrugged, bowing two inches toward the ground in a sluggish posture, "Sorry for kabobing your foot."

"That's not what I was talking about."

Zoro rose, "Then apologize for what?"

"For flipping me off as if I were some kind of creep!"

Zoro couldn't fight the chuckle, "Your words, not mine."

The stranger pushed his chest roughly out of annoyance, forcing his lungs to momentarily cease working. He could already feel the massive pressure swelling under his skin. There would definitely be a mark. "O-oi! You're the one who started it."

"I 'started it'? What are you, twelve?"

"Look who's talking! I didn't resort to violence yet!"

"'Yet'?"

"'Yet'!"

"'Yet'?!"

Zoro growled, "Yeah, 'yet'!"

The second hard push made Zoro's hood fly right off his head, and just as his anger meter sky rocketed, the bastard in front of him had the nerve to laugh. "What?!"

Mr. Critic held his sides comically, gasping for air, "I just...didn't know Marimos could talk."

Marimos?

Mari-

Oh.

Oh. That asshole.

Zoro realized what was said, and it hit him like a boulder. The stranger didn't look much different than a common American. "You're...Japanese?" the teen questioned with genuine curiosity.

The other man seemed taken aback by the sudden turn of the conversation, and hesitantly nodded. "My mother was. What's it to you, grasshead?"

Zoro fumbled for something on the other man to criticize, but that proved to be difficult. He was damn near perfect. Almost shoulder length, sun-golden hair, icy-no, ocean like orbs Zoro could drown in, a bit of groomed facial hair, thin, spiralled eyebrows, lean legs.

Wait.

Zoro grinned, quickly brushing the blonde fringe of hair hiding his left eye to the side, discovering something utterly valuable.

He couldn't breath from how hard his laugh bellowed. They were going the same way, too! "Says curlique!" he cackled.

Mr. Critic lashed out at him, yelling vulgar threats and spewing reasons why people should keep their hands to themselves, one of them included privacy. Zoro was far too amused about how flustered he made him, a bright pink flushed his pale skin up to his ears. This guy wasn't as macho as he thought.

For the second time in his life, Zoro saw the oddly attractive man stomp his way down the concrete path, and out of sight. Zoro faintly wondered if they would ever see each other again in this ridiculously big town, and if all they would ever do is bicker like grumpy old men who've fought for years.


	2. Chapter 2

Me: Sorry for the long wait! You know, school and personal stuff…sorry.

A raven haired boy, about the same height as Zoro, grinned widely once he saw what the other teen was carrying. His forever present straw hat hung around his neck lightly by its thin string. Normally, the younger boy would be wearing his dark red vest in the spring, but instead an out-of-character, large, amethyst wool sweater drooped over his hands. Zoro stood outside his door with his usual stoic look, holding a large brown picnic basket, which undoubtedly contained some kind of freshly cooked meat. The boy could smell its mouth-watering aroma halfway down the hall. As Zoro shoved the handle in his hands while squeezing his way inside, the boy's string of drool was almost touching the tiles. "Zoro..." he breathed in awe, utterly star struck. It wasn't just any meat, it was Koshiro's wonderfully smoked sausages.

The other had already made himself comfortable on the couch, "Hm?" he grunted.

"Marry me...?"

Zoro rolled his eyes. Koshiro made them nearly every weekend for Zoro to deliver there. Ace really needed to stop letting Luffy watch romantic drama shows all day; they were affecting his personality. Something fairly fat brushed against his shin slowly, accompanied by an irritable growl. Zoro cracked an eye open, and glanced down to find Bon Clay, the pot-bellied orange Tabby he adopted. Yes, it seems that he was pissed at him, judging from the snarky stare, but Zoro's apartment didn't allow animals. The feline had grown awfully attached to him at the Humane Society, and to not visit for a few weeks was a death sentence.

Bon had on a bright pink tutu and matching ballerina shoes on only his back paws. Zoro knew that could only be the work of Luffy's ignorance, but he didn't dwell on it. Bon, whose stare could melt ice right now, didn't seem to care about the extra clothing.

"Bon, don't look at me like that. I've been busy," the green haired boy claimed. The cat wasn't even remotely convinced. His whiskers twitched as a yowl slipped from his throat; curled tail flicked with grace. Zoro sighed deeply. Why was this cat so damn sassy?

Once the couch cushion beside him sunk in slightly, Zoro's hand immediately went to massage the feline's soft, bent ears, earning a somewhat satisfied purr. It seems like he was forgiven anyway.

"Oi, I got a quick favor to ask you," Zoro suddenly announced, stopping the other from further carnivorous shoveling.

"Wash ish it?"

"Think you could talk to your grandpa and get me a job at the gym?"

Luffy swallowed loudly, "Ohhhh, but Grandpa Garp won't let you 'cause of-"

"I know," Zoro growled irritably, "but could you talk it over when he comes home? I need another job; McDonald's closed."

Sadness overtook Luffy's usual upbeat demeanor, "Awww, but who will eat the poor, lonely burgers?!"

Zoro stuck his tongue out in disgust, "We found a hole generation of rats in the grease traps and you still wanna eat the food?"

Fortunately saving him from the gross topic, Luffy's mind seemed set on something else. Thank goodness, too. Zoro didn't know how long that conversation could last without him vomiting.

"Wait, Zoro, Zoro, Zoro!"

"What?"

"Did I tell you Ms. Nico put me in the school play? She says my part's super-duper important," Luffy gloated with his mouth overly full. Zoro was surprised to say the least. Why would Ms. Nico even consider potentially ruining the annual fall musical? The last incident in Grocery Parade should have enlightened her.

"Oh, really?" Zoro couldn't help but to smile warmly; Luffy was just a little kid at heart. "What are you?"

Luffy's arms shot upwards excitedly, almost dropping the basket, "Rock #5!"

"Why is number five so important?"

"Cause I'm the hero!"

"Uh, Luffy, the play is Romeo and Juliet. There is no hero, let alone a rock hero." At least the rocks didn't die in the end.

The energetic teen frowned, "Zoro~! Don't be mean just 'cause you're jealous."

The older male scoffed, "I'd rather eat dirt than be a part of that stupid thing."

Luffy blinked, "Oh. So...do you want a fork or spoon?"

It was Zoro's turn to blink, if not a little more rapidly, "...huh?"

"Well, yeah, Nami didn't wanna be Juliet, so Ms. Nico-"

"HELL. NO." Zoro held his forearms in exasperation, face-planting into the soft couch cushions. Bon jumped off before he could be crushed and landed on his toes easily, practically dancing into the kitchen. Zoro found himself briefly thinking about return papers at the sight.

Luffy seemed extremely ecstatic that one of his best friends was going to be forced to participate, forced into a dress and makeup, forced to kiss a random guy-the list could go on with their history-crazed teacher. How did Ms. Nico even know that he would be comfortable with it? Ussop never participated, yet he always got full credit, along with Nami and Boa. What made them so goddamn special?

"Great...this is just fucking fantastic," Zoro groaned loudly.

_"Watch the language in my house, young man!"_

The booming voice erupted like a volcano by his now abused eardrum, and he shot off the sofa within Death's reach. Zoro's heart hammered; when the hell did Garp get here? Then, a thought struck him. Hold on a second, this was just perfect! Luffy would've probably forgotten to ask, so this was his only opportunity to do it in person!

"Oi, Mr. Monkey, have you been here the whole time?"

"Of course," Garp coughed lightly, patting his chest, "and the answer is no."

"'No'…?"

Garp stole a sausage from his grandson, who whined childishly at the small loss, "No, you're not working at my gym. No, I'm not going to think about it. And no, I'm not a heartless monster. Any more questions, boy?"

Why were people able to hear him from rooms away? Was Zoro just a loud person? Regardless, the green haired boy pouted with his arms crossed tightly. Luffy giggled, swinging his legs back and forth obnoxiously, but that wasn't something necessarily new.

Garp had more laugh lines than a cheetah had spots. There wasn't a single colored hair on his head or in his trimmed beard. Of course, he was old; mid-sixties at the most, but Garp's enthusiastic energy and crippling strength could make someone question their own eyesight in an instant. He flopped on the couch next to Zoro, causing the young swordsman's body to nearly leave the sofa. Bon had found his way into the room again and settled comfortably by Zoro's feet.

"Oh, c'mon! I really need it," Zoro pleaded.

"No, and that's the end of it."

"Give me one reason, ojisan!"

Garp's veins were beginning to twitch, "Well, for starters, you call me old constantly. But you know the real problem here."

"Ooh! Ohh! Is it because Zoro's clumsy?" Luffy interjected. Garp nodded.

"And 'cause of his condition?"

Another quick nod.

"And his rudeness to most people he doesn't know or care about?"

His grandpa sighed, "Yes, Luffy."

"Oooh~! And he's really lazy, too! That's another one, rig-"

"DAMNIT, LUFFY, WE GET IT."

The raven haired boy stared quietly at his fuming friend. Did he say something wrong?

Nonetheless, Garp crossed his arms as he studied Zoro, long, intensely, and cold. Zoro gulped.

"What do you have to benefit my gym besides destroying it?" he asked.

"...uhm," Zoro grinned sheepishly, "looks?"

~T~

Nami turned the page of her new book quietly, eyes focused and mind emerged in whatever interesting tale she read. Luffy helped Usopp with his sketching, deeply shading in the parts Usopp pointed to. Boa and Bonney were too busy exchanging makeup tips to one another to noticed Ms. Nico telling them to pay attention to their funded private lesson. Coby, Helmeppo, and Vivi sat in a closed circle, finishing algebra homework and reviewing answers. Law pestered an annoyed Kid (as usual) while Sabo flirted with Tashigi shamelessly, though she repeatedly ignored his advances.

Zoro snored loudly, leaned against the wall, heard by the entire classroom. It was study hall, so Ms. Nico, nor any other teacher, could be angry with him; this was his personal time.

"No, no! Coby, b=1.76 not 1.7_5_!" Vivi interjected.

Coby obviously wasn't pleased, "No, it isn't! I worked all night on this problem."

"Well, you need a tutor if you think that's the right answer!"

"Guys," Helmeppo murmured, "You're both wrong. The answer would be a whole number."

"I don't know _what_ the fuck you guys are talking about," Kid complained, shoving Law out of his face. He strolled over to the trio and looked over their shoulders, grimacing at the mere thought of work. Zoro cracked an eye open, giving a feral growl towards the redhead. Eustass annoyed the shit out of him; hell, out of everyone, except Law. He was nothing but an idiotic, bipolar bully, and the class geniuses appeared to be his favorite victims to torment.

Coby averted his gaze away from Kid, and focused on his calculator. Ignoring Kid seemed like a good idea; that is until his worksheet was swiped clear out of his grasp. Vivi yelled at the older boy (she was writing on it at the time, forcing her pencil to slip and make a long, accidental streak) and Zoro sighed, fighting off a yawn as he stood. He didn't want to hear Vivi's complaints any more than he wanted to hear Luffy's eating sounds.

As Kid towered over Coby, his shoulder was tapped non-too gently. He scowled and whipped his head around only to come face to face with an even more pissed off Roronoa. "The fuck do you want?" he sneered, dropping and effectively breaking the calculator and worksheet. Coby screeched inhumanly, crying out how expensive the appliance was and how he'd paid for it with his own money. Kid laughed at him briefly before Zoro's fist collided with his chin. They _both_ winced, and the swordsman tried his hardest not to pay attention to his slowly bruising knuckles. He'd need to take his Desmopressin quickly later.

"Asshole!" Kid cringed, "Was it worth fucking yourself up in the process?! I hope so!"

"You shouldn't have been a meanie, Kid," Luffy stuck his tongue out at the other once he was by his best friend's side. Zoro continued to softly rub his injured hand; the bruise didn't hurt so much as the actual punch did! A dark, purplish color spread furiously and, for a minute, frightened the green-haired teen. How the hell was he going to cover this up?

"Mr. Roronoa, I would _appreciate _if you would keep your limbs to yourself in my classroom. You don't want me to have a little chat with your father after school, do you?" Ms. Nico folded her arms over her (fairly large) chest as her glasses sat at the bridge of her nose menacingly. No one wanted to get on her bad side; she was _not _against physical discipline. So, uncharacteristically, Zoro backed away from Kid, who had his back turned, complaining to his laughing boyfriend. Ms. Nico tapped her foot impatiently. She waited for Zoro to leave, to go to the principal's office as standard procedure, but he didn't move an inch. He simply refused.

"Mr. Roronoa, leave immediately!"

No response. Just a blank, nervous stare.

Luffy waved his hand in front of the other's face, "Zoro~?"

"_Shit_," Zoro breathed.

Ms. Nico raised her brow, turning towards her currently 'normal' student with a look of disbelief, "What did he say? Using such language in my classroom, honestly!"

Luffy overtly ignored her, "What's wrong, buddy? Buddy?"

"_Sensei_," he said breathlessly again. Koshiro was going to be extremely angry with him, and a furious sensei meant an endless amount of chores, though he didn't live at the dojo anymore. Luffy made a stout 'o' on his lips, nodded, and glanced at Ms. Nico. "Zoro's in trouble if Koshiro sees his hand and he knows it 'cause Zoro's not supposed to be violent for some reason but he is anyway so he gets a lot of weird spots that take days to go away and that makes Koshiro scary 'til they do."

Ms. Nico's sense of logic was clearly shot. Then again, anyone's would be after that dully Luffy-fied explanation. Still, that didn't make her any less lenient. "Office," she growled with a slim finger pointed towards the exit, "_NOW_."

Luffy dragged the somewhat paralyzed teenager out of sight before things really got heated. God only knows how many times Zoro got into arguments with teachers.

~T~

Well, his first day working in the Dragon gym had to be spent doing something. Even if that something was dusting off place mats and spraying Febreze on them to dimmer the feet smell down. His knuckles were beyond sore, and the bruise didn't ease up in the slightest. He'd already taken his pill, to help the clotting factor, but it seemed to be working unreasonably slow. Slipping past Koshiro had been the hardest part of the day so far; the elder man asking how his day was and if he cared to accompany him to the grocery store was a lot harder to turn down than Zoro ever thought possible.

Dragon Gym had to be Zoro's overall favorite place to go; the entire building had beautifully decorated purple walls, the price for admission was reasonable, and, most importantly, it was where Zoro first met Luffy, finding him scarfing down everything in the concession stand, complaining that nothing had enough sugar in it. After ten-year-old Zoro explained why (it was a _gym_ for goodness's sake) the overly hyper boy started following him everywhere, occasionally calling him a genius for figuring something so blatantly obvious out. Zoro grinned. Good memories.

As he picked up a particular sky blue mat (God help him, it had the potent of rotten eggs), something rather interesting caught his attention. He could see a customer violently kicking a punching bag through the bay window; such precision and accuracy. Their practiced moves were impressive. Zoro had never seen anyone fight with this sort of technique. It wasn't Tae Kwon Do, or anything Koshiro taught him about. So were they foreign? Maybe they were just messing around; improvising a workout? No, their flow had the distinct touch of expertise. Whoever this person was, they were probably using their legs so profusely since birth. It amazed Zoro immensely; he couldn't take his eyes off the rapid movement. The overall form of the tall, lean, dark blue hoodie and black sweat pants. Kick after strong kick, knee after angled knee, sweep after deadly sweep; the poor punching bag was on the verge of splitting. Zoro grinned. What better time could he spend getting to know the customers than now?

He dropped the mat with no restraint, and headed over to the next room. The repeating sounds of impact rung in his ears, loud and forceful. This guy was letting off quite a bit of steam. Zoro unabashedly strolled over, grinning like an absolute madman. They'd make a challenging sparring buddy. So, without another thought, and already being behind the grunting man, Zoro tapped his shoulder. "That's an interesting technique you've got there. Can you tell me what it's called?"

Said stranger had already jumped in surprised, breathed out in relief, and snarled in anger during the process of Zoro speaking. The hoodie was pulled back, and Zoro immediately came face to face with deathly familiar question mark eyebrow.

"You following me, shithead?" the guy shouted in his face, "I'll call the cops on your ass!"

"Wha—? Dumbass, I work here," the swordsman stated matter-of-factly. It felt good to finally be able to claim the gym after years of Garp's rejections. This seemed to spark the other's doubt, considering he folded his arms crossly and narrowed his eyes. "What's that look for?" Zoro questioned.

"I've been a member of this gym since I was seventeen, and I've never seen you here before. What the hell is with all these jobs? Next, you're gonna tell me you're a damn brain surgeon."

Since seventeen? This guy looked about the same age as him. How old _was_ he then? "I just started working here," Zoro found himself explaining, shrugging, "Times are tough."

"Pfft, you're right about _one_ thing. I've lost five workers in the past two weeks. Damn economy."

'_He's got __**workers**__? He's a __**boss**__?!_' Zoro thought. Is this stranger some kind of young-looking, company-owning prodigy? Zoro wondered if he should ask where he worked; that seemed a little personal for the situation. This guy would start thinking Zoro really was stalking him. So, as the logical response, he grunted in acknowledgment, walking away from the other. If it weren't for the sudden call of "marimo," the teen would have already been halfway out the door. His temple twitched in annoyance, but decided not to fight the customer. Not on his first day, anyhow. "Yes, _sir_?" Zoro profoundly grounded out.

Unbeknownst to him, that only gave the customer even more satisfaction. He flashed a sly smirk, "You look like a guy who can somewhat kick ass. I'd hate to ruin your punching bags. Care to spar with me?"

Zoro was almost positive his insanely wide grin stretched his lips to the point of no return. The stranger took that as an absolute yes.

It wasn't until Zoro was directly in front of the other man (knuckles still throbbing) that he realized the actual danger in fighting him. Those kicks from earlier weren't average. Hell, they were _supernatural_. Would this guy possibly go easy on him, or did he think Zoro could obviously take a little brutality because of his broad frame? _It was a pain in the ass just to get Sensei to let me lift weights_, he remembered stiffly.

The stranger must have noticed some sort of external distress from the swordsman's tense body. His voice was gentler than what Zoro was used to when addressed. "Tell me you know how to fight, kelp-head?" he questioned.

Zoro felt a sudden hotness stretch over his cheeks, "Y-Yeah, of course I can, swirly! The _real_ question is, can you handle me?"

The same smirk from earlier sent pleasant tingles down Zoro's spine the longer he gazed at it. God, was everything about this mysterious guy drop-dead _sexy_? Well, not counting his shitty attitude, that is. Suddenly, a large gust of wind flew past Zoro's face, blowing his jade green locks back forcefully and matting them down. The man laughed at his surprised/shocked/utterly terrified expressions his facial features gave away. _Was __**that**__ a kick?!_ That couldn't have been! There had to be a hidden metal fan somewhere on him for tricks! He just played with people's minds, right? Right?!

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" Zoro screamed, falling on his backside, recovering from his minor heart attack.

The man laughed even harder, "Weren't you the one who complimented me not even ten minutes ago?"

"That was before a foot almost tore my head off my shoulders! Seriously, what are you?!"

Stranger stuck his hand out in a polite gesture, and helped the teenager to his feet. Zoro shook his hand back. "Sanji Bleu. I specialize in Taekkyeon, Savate, and Hapkido. Used to travel across the world for championships. You?"

Zoro was struck speechless. This guy-or rather, Sanji, had the honor of competing in actual, legit championships worldwide? Zoro wasn't even allowed to take the city bus downtown for goodness sake! Something about this new information made the boy see Sanji in a new light; a sudden admiration dawned. His hand was squeezed softly, and Zoro noticed the other examining his bruises, running a thumb over the marks. They hadn't let go of each other yet? "Uh, I'm Zoro. Zoro Roronoa. I guess you could say I specialize in swordplay...?"

But Sanji wasn't listening. His attention was strictly on the teen's hand. "They look so recent. What did you do to get them?" he quipped, refusing to release his grip.

"I, um, it was just a petty mishap. Happened hours ago," he clarified.

"Then why does it still look like this?"

"I don't know, curly-brow, okay?!" And Zoro really didn't. Bruises were normally bad anyway for him, but the Desmopressin helped the clotting work faster. Today, it wasn't doing its only job for some reason. Sanji stared at him; his eyes seemed intimidating and a bit of anger shined deep within them the longer Zoro stared back. Finally, with a rough sigh, Sanji left to slip on his white sneakers, and then grabbed the teen's hand again. Zoro's heart thumped loudly in his ears. "What are you-"

"I'm taking you to the hospital, shithead. That's not normal."

"But I'm still working!"

"Consider this your break."

Zoro huffed as he was dragged to Sanji's car. "Bastard, I don't even know you! You can't expect me to just get in your..._truck_?" Yes, the sight before him wasn't a mere every day car, or an every day truck for that matter. The tall vehicle had a glorious dark red paint job, making it look fresh out of the factory. Six seats, a touch screen radio, and a mini television embedded in the dashboard, right next to the air bag. Sanji grinned, ushering him into the passenger side.

Once in the truck, all doors closed, Zoro summoned up enough courage to stop looking around like a dazed child and ask what was on his mind. "Championships get you cars like this? Impressive."

To his surprise, Sanji chuckled; a low and amazingly cute sound. "No," he stated, "Managing a five star restaurant for five years does."

Now, the real questions decided to flow out of his mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

*_Yes, Zoro is seventeen going on eighteen. We've made Sanji about twenty-five.*_

The hospital had an unexpectedly peaceful atmosphere, which is something Zoro would never think possible in a place of usual pain and death. Sanji chauffeured him inside through the transparent French doors, immediately coming in contact with the front desk. Zoro thought it was strange that the older man took him here, to East Blue Hospital, instead of any closer ones. This was where he was treated when Saga pushed him down the dojo's stairs, when a classmate accidentally stepped on his foot, and also where he picked up his Desmopressin prescription pills.

An odd, portly man took the seat of Rebecca (the usual secretary Zoro saw), and his bold, brown name platelet "Jinbe". He had a striking resemblance to a dolphin, Zoro thought. A rather impolite thought mind you, but the deed was done. After the slow process of signing in, waiting in a freshly cleaned waiting area (the impending odor of bleach was their evidence), being accompanied by a rather…_charming_ gentleman calling himself Crocus, and some toddler crying over a splinter, Zoro's name was finally announced. He stood with little enthusiasm, feeling Sanji's body move along with his own. "I can go in by myself," he grunted, stretching his spine. Those chairs weren't so client friendly.

Sanji shrugged his shoulders as a sign of acceptance. Bitter acceptance; the swordsman could have sworn a look of distraught find its way to the blonde's features. But he was imagining things, wasn't he? There were no possible chances of Sanji being _uncomfortable_ with _not_ going with him. The man barely knew him! Zoro brushed off his inner anxiety and headed towards the office, refusing his strong urge to look back.

~T~

"What'd he say to you?" Sanji questioned once they were back in the car.

Zoro buckled his seat belt, scoffing lightly, "The usual doctor runaround. You know, "put some ice on it" and "come back if you need anything." I hate coming here." That wasn't entirely the trust, yet it wasn't partially a lie either. The swordsman refused to confess his condition; there was some kind of strange embarrassment he felt in even _thinking_ of telling Sanji. His personality type spoke nothing short of pity and caution if he found out.

The older man raised an eyebrow as he started the engine, pulling out of the half empty parking lot. It had to be eight—nine o'clock at the least; the sun's presence was entirely gone. The moon took its place gladly, almost full, radiating the night with the help of overly bright street lights. _I haven't seen any stars in ages_, Sanji wondered. "C'mon," he quipped playfully, sensing Zoro's mood turning sour very quickly, "Doctors aren't so bad."

"The doctors aren't so much of the reason I hate East Blue Hospital…" the swordsman's tone took a low octave as he focused on the curb endlessly racing against the truck. Sanji figured he didn't want to talk about whatever matter he was referring to, but the blonde felt a strange desire to know. "What, uh," Sanji murmured, tapping the steering wheel as his blue orbs found their way to the teen's direction sporadically, "What's the other part of the reason?"

Zoro glanced over, sighed heavily, and rubbed his eyes. He was getting extremely tired; two of his naps throughout the day were missed, he guessed. "Memories," he yawned, covering his mouth for manners, "Bad memories."

"Oh."

The rest of the drive was exceptionally quiet. Sanji's worrisome conscious kept blaming it on the simple fact that Zoro seemed uncomfortable around him, but he knew logically the other man was just worn out. He'd told him were he stayed so easily, Sanji pondered. Instantly. He was a bit angry about the piece of important information so willingly given to him; what if he was some kind of kidnapper, a robber, an identity thief; a _criminal_? Granted, he most certainly wasn't, but Zoro didn't know that for sure! He slept soundly in a random stranger's truck, assuming he would be dropped off in front of his long-awaited home just because a small favor, like driving to the doctor, was done for him. Sanji found it funny, actually. What would the marimo do if he suddenly woke up in a dirty whorehouse in Pasadena?

Sanji's eyes were constantly distracted, wanting to admire the exotic, bold features on the side of him. Zoro rested against the window, snoring lightly, his high cheekbones catching the street lights' illuminations here and there. Marimo locks were cut short, but obviously contained natural curls embedded within his scalp. He was snuggled up into his short-sleeved graphic T-shirt, stating he apparently didn't speak "failure" in bright yellow letters. The thin fabric stretched across his chest in such a fashion that made Sanji tighten his gripped on the wheel, blush, and focus on the road ahead.

A few minutes later, the blonde noticed tiny rapid movement out the corner of his peripheral. Zoro was shivering slightly. Yes, it was rather chilly, but the temperature knobs were broken. Franky promised to fix them, but never got around to it yet.

He shivered again, hard but seemingly still unconscious. Sanji pulled over and dug around in his back seat, searching for the familiar feel of hand-woven wool. Once it grazed his fingertips, the blonde chef made a grab for it and lifted it over the seat. The sweater was too big for him, but that never stopped him from parading the house with it on. He studied the grade-A stitching lovingly; there were no significant designs. Only empty blackness that gave Sanji an endless amount of content each and every time he laid eyes on it. It was made by his adoptive mother long ago.

Well, this would have to do.

Zoro gladly accepted extra coverage. The long sleeve lazily slid off the side of his shoulder, and he cuddled further into the leather seat. Sanji absolutely melted at the sight.

8743 Drury Avenue. A large secluded apartment building that has surely been reaching old age over the years appeared as he drove just around the corner. Sanji couldn't fight back the disgusted grimace once he'd laid eyes on the jagged chipped bricks running downside the walls. This place needed some serious renovations. He could only picture how a man like Zoro lived, what with his sluggish manner and rude attitude. But maybe he was only aggressive towards him? Towards strangers generally, from Sanji's observations. Maybe...maybe Zoro showed another side of himself to loved ones?

"Stop with the shitty feelings, Sanji," the blonde groaned, smacking his forehead against the steering wheel, "You just met this asshole."

"Who're you callin' an asshole...?" Zoro's drowsy voice sounded in his ear; the impact of his forehead must have shaken the truck.

"You, marimo. You're home. Outta my truck."

The swordsman blinked cutely, whipping his head downwards, spotting the familiar long crack in the sidewalk. He yawned out, "Oh, I am," and curtly thanked Sanji. Somehow even that ended with them blatantly throwing insults at each other. Sanji watched him ring the buzzer to the intercom, and a jolt of surprise hit him dead on. He's living with someone?

"Oi," the swordsman called from the entrance, "What're you doing, cook?"

The blonde man drew back the stick shift as he spoke, "Get brain damage on the way here, marimo? I'm going home."

"Get your ass upstairs, dipshit. It's too late to drive in my neighborhood. There're thugs around every corner that would use you for target practice."

Sanji certainly has no problem with this, considering it would give him a chance to examine Zoro's apartment and, maybe, roommate. As he stepped out of the truck, a loud voice came screeching over the intercom, making Zoro recoil immediately. _"ZORO~! I kept watch like you told me!"_

Zoro grinned sleepily, "Good Luffy. You can have the meatloaf in the fridge now." He referred to this "Luffy" like an obedient dog who hadn't chewed the furniture upon request.

"_But you locked it!"_

"You lock your fridge?" the blonde inquired. He heard a mumble of "you'll see" as the entrance opened ruggedly for them. They headed up four flights of stairs before coming to a stop. Zoro was so used to climbing several steps that he didn't even break a sweat. Sanji heaved and panted, desperately trying to keep up after the third flight. He had strong legs, but _damn_, these were some long staircases. Zoro pulled out a gold key, but the door swung open at the speed of light and he was suddenly pressed against the opposite wall, being squeezed to death. He let out a strangled cry of pain before Luffy eased back, apologizing, repeatedly claiming that he forgot his condition in the heat of the moment. Zoro chuckled sheepishly, hoping the cook wouldn't start asking about what was "particularly forgotten." The swordsman turned towards his guest, but a bubble of laughter tickled his vocal cords. Sanji, in this certainly non-threatening situation, however, stared at Luffy with fear. He panted heavily after his laughing fit, and ushered the blonde inside. Unfortunately, his overly hyper best friend followed.

"Luffy, you can go home now. Thanks for house-sitting and all," Zoro shooed him off. Luffy just inhumanly maneuvered his body around the green-headed teen and next to the new stranger. Zoro blinked. Wasn't he right in front of the threshold? How the hell did he…?

"Zoro, who's your friend?" Luffy asked innocently. "Is he another, um, I think you called it a 'fling'—"

Sanji smirked devilishly, causing the humiliated swordsman's cheeks to flare up tenfold. "I-I never had a…! _Luffy_," he forced out through grinding incisors, "I think it's time for you to _go_ now!"

"But you promised meatloaf!"

"I'll give it to you tomorrow!"

"You mean at scho—" Zoro slapped his hand over the other boy's constantly moving lips. The last thing he needed was Sanji to know he was just a high-schooler. Albeit, he would graduate soon, but that was in the near future, not to mention beside the point. What if the cook refused to befriend him if he realized Zoro was a minor? Lots of adults thought it was wrong to casually hang out with teenagers, no matter how close they were to adulthood.

Sanji raised a spiraled brow; it was honestly endearing to look at. He didn't question their odd behavior, gratefully. He merely waited patiently for them to finish their conversation by averting his single dark blue peeper off in the distance. The swordsman huffed, covering his face with a few tanned fingers. "Cook, you can make yourself comfortable on the couch. I have to talk to the Village Idiot real quick, if you don't mind," he said. Sanji nodded.

Luffy watched the older man walk away, keeping a dopey grin on his face the entire time. "I like him more than Enel."

"No, Luffy. There is no "who do you like better" comparisons 'cause he's not my boyfriend or a fling. He's just a friend. I swear that's it."

Luffy cocked his head, "But you said that about Enel…and he was your friend for a super-duper long time before you just stopped seeing him one day…"

"_Enel_," Zoro growled lowly, making sure his guest didn't over hear, "was a brutal bastard who didn't support me in anything I did, whether it was a step closer to my dream, or work. I'm sure Sanji is nothing like that; he doesn't seem like a cold-hearted person. And he _can't_ be worse than Enel."

Luffy grinned rowdily with a sharp declaration of "I like that!"

"…Like what?"

"His name! Even his name sounds cool~! San-ji~! S-ah-n-jee! _SONJI~_! SAN-CHAN~" Zoro shook his head in hopelessness. Embarrassment curled in the pit of his stomach as the blonde actually _responded_ to Luffy's unintentional calls, and he accidentally made eye contact with him. It was slow, enticing, and completely mesmerizing, and if it weren't for the simple fact of Luffy's presence ruining the atmosphere, Zoro was almost positive their so-called "moment" would have gotten out of hand on his part.

Luffy blinked as he switched his puzzled gaze in between them for a few seconds, effectively vexing the swordsman because it went on for far too long. He finally snapped, "What?!"

"It's…never mind," he suddenly became very quiet and sullen. He bid his best friend a short goodbye and left his apartment without out any further distractions. Now that was odd, especially for Luffy of all people. Zoro speculated what he was about to say. The younger boy normally didn't think twice about whatever spewed out of his ludicrous mouth.

Meanwhile, Sanji couldn't help but appreciate Zoro's style of decoration. The apartment structure itself wouldn't have looked nice even it was utterly destroyed, but the swordsman somehow made it work. The living room furniture set was (not all-that-surprisingly) a jade green, and the small wooden coffee table had a stack of _Kenshi Monthly_ magazines on top. A few coasters were scattered aimlessly; one even fell on the beige carpet below. As for the chimneyless mantle, pictures of mainly two boys and an elderly man took up majority of the small space. There was only one picture of a little girl—black hair, big brown doe eyes, and she clutched a katana with a pearly white saya to her hip. Beside her picture, Sanji noticed, was a miniature urn. He immediately felt a wave of remorse.

"I don't have a guest room, so you'll have to sleep on the couch. You thirsty?" Zoro stated, digging through the fridge's contents. He didn't really find the time to go grocery shopping this week, but he was sure a few cups of instant Ramen and imported sake (courtesy of Ace) would last him until then. Sanji paled and denied any inner accusations of his eyes bolting towards his round ass poking out; the fabric of his blue jeans stretched to its limits. A buff guy like Zoro wore pants tighter than skin?

"Sure," Sanji grinned, "What're my options?"

"Sake, sake, and…oh, look at that, sake."

"Smart ass. I'll take a glass." Zoro snickered like an amused feline. After pulling the cork out violently with his teeth, he fixed a tall glass for the blonde, and took the bottle for himself. Sanji stayed silent except for the curt grunt he gave as thanks for receiving his beverage. They both sat on the couch, quiet, awkward, and frankly, bored out of their minds. Each casual sip and gulp was the only source of sound. The chef suddenly turned his body towards the younger boy, leaving his leg to hang off the cushion loosely. Zoro quirked an eyebrow.

Sanji set down his drink and fiddled with his hoodie strings, "The last thing I want to do is…intrude, Zoro, but the suspense is killing me. Who's the brutal bastard you were talking about earlier?"

Zoro flushed an incredibly dark red, considering his tan could have hid most of it. It was cute and hilarious, but Sanji opted for mostly cute. The swordsman absently tapped the neck of the bottle. "You…y-you heard all that?" he murmured.

In spite of that, the blonde flashed his pearly white teeth in a stout laugh. "Only the parts I wanted to hear."

Zoro had no idea what he meant by that. He gave a repudiate look, "How the hell did you even hear me out there?!"

"You only stood about three feet away from the door…"

Zoro sighed. He really needed to learn how to keep his voice at a minimum. Nevertheless, Sanji was expecting an answer. Should he speak about his former relationship at all? Dumping his old emotions on his guest didn't seem like a great way to start a friendship. But something about the other's eyes searching, waiting, and desire to know made him spill quite easily. Nothing short of complaints, bitching, insults, and brief moments of acting when Zoro couldn't fully express his point suddenly filled up their time. Nine o'clock became ten thirty before they knew it. Sanji somehow ended up lying upside down on the couch, his legs hanging over the back of it while laughing quietly. Zoro was in the middle of yet another story as he paced back and forth.

"_Then_, he had the nerve to drive to my job, demand to see me even though I was in the other part of the store helping customers look for sweater vests, and you know what he did once my coworker left? Called me a fat ass hippo. Said I needed to train more if I wanted the pleasure of staying with him and his...um, 'godly shaft.'"

Sanji held his stomach tightly; he couldn't take much more! "No way! In _public_?"

Zoro laughed along with him, his shoulders shaking heartily, "I swear! That's also how I lost that job. I started screaming at him in the middle of the women's department and scared off the clientele. I damn near ripped his ear lobes off."

The cook sighed with a bright smile lingering on his lips, "Why his ear lobes?"

"He had a weird infatuation with Buddha. Hell, he thought he was _better_ than Buddha. So, he got them stretched all the way down to his chest. I can only imagine how painful it was." Zoro finally sat down next to the other, who was now sitting upright, downing the rest of his drink for his dried throat. Zoro grinned; it felt nice to get that out, especially since his friends, though they showed support, never really wanted to hear about his relationship problems 24/7. After all, they had problems of their own to deal with.

The blonde man set the glass down again and leaned back further into the couch, crossing those incredibly long over each other leisurely. "Why'd you stay with that asshole if he made you feel like shit?"

Zoro shrugged. Of course, he's had countless thoughts about whether or not to murder the idiot, but honestly, Enel was only there for him to occasionally let out some stress. Sexually and physically. He wasn't good for much else. Zoro grinned smugly, "The sex was awesome." _That_ made Sanji bust a gut almost as quick as the hair dye story. Such blatant honesty!

"The insensitive, cocky bastard with stupidly long ear lobes was good in bed? That and that _alone_ was the reason you put up with him?"

"Pretty much. We just called each other boyfriends for convenience. It was way easier than 'frequent fuck buddies,' don't you think?"

Sanji lightly touched his shoulder as he chuckled, mildly surprising the swordsman, "You're priceless, Marimo."

"Glad to know you approve of me, swirly-brow," Zoro paused for a moment, "Sorry, swirly-_brows_."

Muttering a half-hearted insult, Sanji stood a little too quickly and stumbled forward. Zoro caught him by his forearm before he ended up with a broken table and splintered wood everywhere. "Geez," he huffed, "Tell me you're not drunk off your ass from one glass."

The cook gathered himself clumsily, claiming that he just tripped over something. Though, there was absolutely nothing in his path. Zoro brushed it off; who knew his guest would be such a light-weight? He asked where the bathroom is suddenly, and Zoro told, secretly praying he wouldn't be sick all over his floor. His bathroom was already in need of cleaning; adding to it wouldn't make it much easier. Although, in the short time he waited for Sanji to return, the swordsman almost felt the tingling excitement of eager. He hadn't had new company in a while. It was hard enough to make friends with Luffy after transferring schools. But after he opened up, he soon met the rest of their little unruly "crew."

Sanji returned much sooner than he expected. Zoro couldn't help but stare at his rosy cheeks; a telltale sign of intoxication. How can a man of his stature get drunk so fast? Zoro hadn't even finished half of the bottle yet! "Oi, I think it's time we went to bed," the teen announced at seeing the older man wobble unsteadily. It was clear that he really needed to get off his feet.

"But the couch looks _sooo_ uncomfortable!" Sanji whined suddenly. Zoro laughed even though the cook across from him was being beyond the definition of serious. It wasn't until the older man pouted that the swordsman let out a huff of air exasperatedly, and scratched his scalp lightly. "Well," he shrugged, "I guess I could take the couch instead." It didn't really matter to Zoro; he could literally sleep anywhere.. He even managed to fall asleep on a roller coaster once. How it was possible? Zoro blamed it on lack of entertainment.

The cook shook his head loosely, his entire body seemingly limp and out of his control. "But then I'd be kicking you out of your own bed! That's so rude!"

Zoro was beginning to get annoyed. Why did he have to be a_ whiny_ drunk? Why not a flirty drunk, or maybe a funny drunk? But no, he invited this indecisive moron into his humble abode. Maybe he should have just let the local thugs deal with him. Whatever, it was too late anyways. Sanji was too drunk to stand properly let alone drive downtown, through late-night traffic intersections and blaring lights at every corner. He wouldn't be that cruel. "What do you suppose we do then, shitty-cook?"

Zoro couldn't be completely sure, but something told him that yes, Sanji's rosy cheeks did in fact flush a shade darker. His own face flared in a mere second; the blonde wasn't suggesting what Zoro's guttered mind _thought_ he was suggesting, was he?

"We…could, you know, s-share," Sanji stammered, twiddling his fingers.

"Oh. Uh, I guess if you don't mind…?"

Sanji grinned excitedly like a child who had finally gotten their piece of candy. Honestly, Zoro noticed it held a fairly large amount of happiness, far too much for a drunkard to even possess in a drunken haze, but Zoro let it go. Sanji had already ran towards his bedroom. How the fuck could he trick him into getting into his bed? And why had he agreed?! He barely knew the guy!

"Marimo~! I need you to open your door for me!"

Zoro frowned as he placed the glass in the sink, next to the toppling pile of dirty dishes. He'd do it later. Eventually. "Why can't you do it yourself?" he yelled from the kitchen.

"It's bad manners to go into your host's bedroom, dumbass!" The hard slur was apparent in his voice now.

The swordsman nearly broke the bottle from his tight grip. Somehow a whiny drunk having manners didn't mix in his mind. Hell, was it actually possible? Or did the idiot cook pretend to be drunk off his ass in order for Zoro to take pity on him? With a sigh, Zoro stored the rest of the sake in the fridge and headed towards the back. It couldn't be helped now. God forbid Sanji's drunken words pestering the hell out of him if he slept on the couch for the night.


End file.
